Monsters and Men
by Estein
Summary: 'She knew he was trouble—and not the type she liked.' Chester wasn't supposed to exist, at least not in their world. She was supposed to be the quick snack that didn't bite back. But she did. She snapped her jaws tightly and bit him back twice as hard. And so, Chester existed as much as she didn't. Kol/OC.
1. one

**—**

**. monsters and men .**

…

i._ little talks_

**—**

Chester was currently unimpressed.

Today was the day she turned twenty-one.

It was an excuse for her to be out partying and indulging in those guilty hedonistic pleasures that regular birthdays just don't allow. It was a reason to act crazy, have fun, and be free of inhibitions.

A night to drink herself blind, but probably not one she would remember.

Chester has this uncanny ability to get so completely blackout drunk that trying to recall her own name the next morning would more likely cause an aneurism than anything else.

Chester actually quite enjoyed getting wasted despite the following hangovers—at least, she wouldn't have to suffer the shameful memories of whatever immoral act she'd committed the night before.

That's what she should be doing right this moment. Getting wasted and committing immoral acts. She was turning _twenty-one_, damn it!

She was supposed to be at some seedy rave, drinking booze with both people she didn't know and friends she didn't like.

She was supposed to be having fun.

However, in contrast, Chester was sitting on an uncomfortable wooden barstool, drinking alone, as she waited for her _mother_ to show.

Instead of being able to binge drink and act like a slag with likeminded folks, Chester was stuck with the gruelling task of playing the waiting game with her mother.

Her mother, who was an hour and a half late—according to Chester's iPhone—and _still_ hadn't responded to any of her texts or calls.

Sad thing is, Chester was completely unsurprised by her mother's behaviour. She wouldn't even be surprised if the woman didn't show up at all.

Despite it always being her mother who wished to meet up (it always is an emergency, isn't it?), Chester always ends up the one being let down, abandoned and alone.

One or two hours is nothing compared to the days and weeks the woman could disappear for.

Her mother pulled this act so many times on so many different occasions that Chester didn't even bother to be surprised anymore.

Chester sighed, fingering the edge of her tumbler as she thought of Elizabeth Bishop.

The woman was unstable, neurotic, and much too whimsical for her own good—the exact same reasons why Chester needed to wait for her, to worry about her, to take care of her.

Her mother would be lost in more ways than one if it weren't for her.

Chester sighed again, languidly dragging the slight condensation along the glass with a fingertip until small swirls patterned along the misted areas.

Looking at the muted light reflecting off the burnished orange liquid within her tumbler made her sigh once more, a soft huff following the previous.

_Scotch_. _Single malt._

She hated Scotch, but loved to drink it. It tended to be her prime choice of liquor when she wanted to drown her emotions.

_Which probably makes me out to be some sort of alcoholic_, she thought with a deprecating sense of humour. _Only drunks and desperate housewives know what type of booze they prefer to drown out their sorrows._

Drinking Scotch always made Chester forget herself.

Something about the burn of the alcohol against her larynx never failed to comfort her.

_Plus, why waste time getting tipsy from pretty coloured cocktails when you can just get to it?_ she thought, the bitter taste of whisky lingering on her tongue. _Not to mention, there's a marginal difference in the degree of hangover the next morning. Bonus? I think so. _

The door to the Grill clankered open, clearly in need of some oil as it let out a muted cry; wincing at the sound, Chester instinctively turned to see who had arrived.

Despite knowing the likely probability of it _not_ being her mother, Chester still found herself irritatingly hopeful.

_Each and every time_, she scorned herself. _It's like I never learn._

Every time she's let down and ditched, Chester always tells herself that there wouldn't be a next time, that she wasn't going to wait for a woman who didn't care enough to show up.

But there _always_ is a next time, and another time following that.

Chester hated that she just let herself be taken advantage, that she let her own mother walk all over her.

She told herself to learn from her mistakes, to stop expecting things to happen just because she wanted them to. Chester told herself all that, repeatedly and continuously.

Each and every time; and yet, Chester somehow always ends up waiting anyway.

Gripping the glass tumbler, she quickly knocked it back, drinking the remaining liquid. It wasn't her mother who just walked in.

However, it was someone Chester vaguely recognized.

She couldn't put a name to the face, but she recalled the familiarity of the girl; pretty, blonde, voluminous curls.

_Ah_,_ of course_. Chester recalled a younger version of the girl, bright-eyed and sharp-tongued. She used to live a house down from Chester. _Caroline, I think? She was vicious in her little spats with that tall brunette friend of hers._

Chester briefly wondered if she should wave, to invoke some sort of friendly nostalgia. Deciding it wasn't much of an idea, she quickly turned back to her empty tumbler before they could make eye contact (and thus be forced to acknowledge one another).

_I doubt she even remembers me much_, she thought dismissively. _Even if she does, it'd be a rather awkward reunion. _Chester quirked her lips into a smirk as a stray thought crossed her mind._ I wonder if she knows that it was me who ran over her prized outdoor tea set that one summer_, she pondered, recalling the disastrous incident._ Probably not, since she has yet to bitch-slap me across the bar… _

Chester smiled, remembering how nervous she had been in the face of ten-year old Caroline Forbes. _She really loved that tea set. _Even being four years older than the other girl, and Chester had still gotten sweaty palms and shaky knees when faced with lying to those dubious blue eyes. _She probably cried for days after I told her a rabid raccoon rampaged through it. Never held a tea party ever again after that. 'To pay her respects for the dearly depart,' was her justified reasoning._

Now smiling, Chester motioned towards the bartender. She checked her phone with her other hand whilst waiting for her glass to be refilled.

Only a minute and a half had past since she last checked, making her sigh heavily. _I hate it when time passes way slower than it seems. _

Taking another sip of Scotch, she could hear the neighbouring customers speak out quite loudly, from further down the bar.

"I remember _her _from last night," a teasing voice said, smug with an oddly distinguished accent. It sounded mostly British, much like Chester's own lilt, but there was also something more to it. "She looks like a _tasty_ little thing," the guy practically purred to his companion, almost goading.

Chester wrinkled her nose, wondering what exactly that meant. It sounded suggestive, but instead of a dark promise of pleasure, it seemed to propose something more... _undesirable_.

"Say another word, and I'll tear out your liver," replied a smooth drawl, deeper in tone but with the same accented speech.

Curious—and slightly disgusted, if she were being completely honest—Chester peered over the edge of her tumbler at the two men standing a few feet to her right.

They were both good-looking, oddly so—inhumanely so—and apart from their classic porcelain skin tone, they contrasted in colouring.

One was fair-haired and blue-eyed, slightly rugged with his perfectly chiselled features and nonchalant bearing. He looked suave, but Chester could see a predatory glint in his eyes, making her instinctively edge away.

The other had dark hair and eyes, with impossibly clean-cut features. He seemed much younger than his friend, the cheeky tilt of his lips adding a fresh quality to his demeanour.

While his blond friend had a dangerous air about him, Chester found herself more unnerved by the dark-haired one.

He just seemed _off_.

Chester felt a chill run down her spine. She rubbed her bare arms, hoping to rid herself of the unhinged feel of peril that crept upon her.

"Caroline," the blond man called out as Caroline made to brush by them with a confident indifference.

The sound of his voice was loud enough to distract Chester from the prickling unease scratching at the back of her neck.

Chester knew it was probably quite rude to be so interested in other people's business, but she was bored; she discretely leant further back on her bar stool and pretended to sip her Scotch as she silently observed.

_Good to see things haven't changed much around here_, she noted._ Caroline always did have that incredibly odd knack of getting caught up in one drama or another_, Chester thought, slightly amused. _Perhaps if I observe long enough, I'll see something interesting and ease my boredom._

Chester edged back further on her stool, fully aware of how nosy she was being but was simply too eager for some sort of entertainment to truly care.

Caroline glanced dismissively at the man, making to brush him off by walking on by with a dismissive glance. In the same motion, she pivoted on her heel deciding to acknowledge the man's presence after all, crossing her arms and sneering down her nose at him.

"Oh, it's _you_," she said, rather snidely as she pursed her lips in contempt.

Chester almost scoffed when the blond man's features developed a complacent expression, pleased that he got the girl to notice him, and much too smug to notice a calculating look flash through Caroline's eyes.

Entirely too smug for his own good.

_Foolish man_, Chester thought with the slightest bit of pity. _Confidence is one thing. Overconfidence, however, is something _else_ entirely._

The look Caroline had in her eyes—coy, cunning, _promising_, but all for the wrong reasons—was similar to the one her mother loved to adopt in the presence of men. A look that aimed to lure and manipulate, a look to tempt and gain, a look that meant trouble.

Chester had seen the results of it more times than she'd wanted too; and it was _always_ messy.

_Well, whatever_, she brushed off, not wanting to be unwarrantedly intrusive. Eavesdropping and 'people-watching' was intrusive enough. Giving random people relationship advice is just creepy._ What he does is his business. If the bloke lands in Caroline's mess, then it'll be his mess to clean up. I don't even know the guy, so I don't really care either way._

"Join us for a drink?" the blond asked, tempting Caroline with his smooth voice and punctuating with a small gesture to his tumbler.

His dark-haired friend mimicked him, lifting his drink in a friendly salute with a smirk upon fixed his handsome face. He appeared more mocking than anything else.

"Hmm," Caroline pondered out loud, tilting her head a fraction. "I'd rather die of thirst," she sneered. "But, _thanks_." She sounded anything but thankful as turned and walked away, curly blonde waves bouncing in sync with the clicks of her heels.

"Isn't she stunning?" the blond commented, almost purring his words.

"She certainly looks good walking away from you," his friend sniped back in mocking humour.

Lifting his tumbler, Chester watched as the blond finish off the rest of his liqueur. Placing the glass down onto the polished wood of the bar, he smirked.

"I'll take that as a challenge."

Chester watched as the man trailed after Caroline, a confident glide to his walk as he slipped out into the night.

_Of course, no man can resist a challenge_, Chester scoffed. _Typical._

…

Eyes still lingering on the closing front door, Chester absentmindedly smiled to herself, dragging the tip of her pinky around the circular edge of her glass.

"Amused, are you?

Chester was vaguely startled by the familiar accented voice, taking note of the dark-haired man as he sidled into a closer bar stool. It was the other half of the pair she'd been staring at.

His leg brushed against hers as he leaned closer, making her cross her legs in avoidance.

"Excuse me?" she asked, feigning ignorance.

"I saw you staring," he said, "rather blatantly, might I add. I know I'm quite handsome, but you should work on subtlety."

"I wasn't blatant."

"But you were _staring_," he pointed, grinning. "As you've all but admitted when you didn't deny."

"Innocent until proven guilty?"

"More like guilty until proven otherwise," he shot back. "I know you were staring."

He was too smug for Chester's liking.

Smirking, she raised a brow in challenge.

"Perhaps I was, perhaps not. Either way, it wasn't at your so-called 'appeal'. You're not _that_ fit."

He scoffed, raising his own brow fractionally whilst giving her the most dubious look possible. He clearly regarded himself quite highly.

_Fine_, _you're pretty damned hot_, she admitted within the confines of her mind._ Though I'm not about to admit anything when you're already this bigheaded._

"So?" Chester prompted. "What do you want?"

"I was curious."

"About…" she trailed off expectantly.

"Why were you so amused?" he bluntly asked, his tone all but demanding.

Chester didn't like the sense of entitlement he seemed to adopt in his speech. She scowled at his gall.

Clicking her tongue in chastisement, she knocked back the rest of her Scotch. Wincing at the burn, the buzz of alcohol made her decide to humour him.

_There's almost nothing else to do anyways_, she reasoned. _Why not play with the cheeky, little prat to pass my boredom?_

"Your friend was foolish," she said frankly, "to follow Caroline, I mean."

He smirked, ruffling his dark hair before straightening it out with deft fingers.

"Really? I've heard Nik called many things, but 'foolish' isn't usually one of the many."

"If he couldn't tell she was clearly up to something, I'd reckon he's more daft than foolish."

He laughed, the corner of his lips tilting up to reveal straight white teeth.

"_Daft_? Oh, that's just rich."

"Yeah? How so?"

"Just that…" he trailed off, chuckling to himself as he seemed to recall something amusing. "Well, it's just that usually when something involves my brother," he shook his dark head derisively, "people tend to limit their name-calling to nicer things, like: psychotic monster, bloodthirsty killer, and sadistic mass-murderer." He raised a finger to note each name he'd listed.

Chester stared at his earnest features.

"You're joking," she denied plainly.

Smirking at her unamused expression, he pondered quietly, "Am I, really?"

Chester looked at him inquisitively, she hadn't clearly caught what he mumbled beneath his breath.

He chuckled once more, shaking his head in amusement and sending her a calculating look from beneath long, dark lashes.

"Well," Chester prompted, "let's say, hypothetically, your brother really is some psychopath with crazy-ass, murderous tendencies." The dark-haired man snorted in flat humour. "Reckon that he probably enjoys hunting people, or something, 'cause it gives him a thrill." He tilted his head fractionally, waiting for her to continue. "Shouldn't he have better survival instincts if he's such a big, bad predator?"

He peered at her with subtle curiousity, scrutinizing her with slightly narrowed eyes.

"I fail to see your point. If he's the predator, wouldn't that make her the prey?"

"Hypothetically, yes. However—"

"Isn't _her_ who needs to be more cautious?" he interrupted.

Chester rolled her eyes, annoyed that he cut her off. _It was him who wanted to know what I'd thought in the first place._

"Before you kindly interrupted like a pleasantly bigheaded prat," she said, smiling sarcastically when his eyes flashed with slight irritation, "I was going to say that the predator versus prey analogy shouldn't actually be applied in real world situations—_especially_ not when we're talking about interactions between opposite genders—because it'd be, like, totally unreliable in its inaccuracy."

"Oh?" he prompted. "Seems pretty accurate to me. Girls tease, men chase—isn't that how it's always been? Pretty much a predator versus prey situation, no?"

"Yeah, but who's the predator and who's the prey? There are a_ lot_ of man-eaters out there."

"'Man-_eater_'?" he asked, dubiously. "What type of forsaken creature is that?"

Chester looked at him oddly. "Surprised you've never heard of them before, pretty boy. They aren't 'forsaken creatures'—'man-eaters'—they're typical humans, usually women, who have a _taste_ for the flesh of man. I reckon you've seen one or two before, they're practically everywhere nowadays."

"I'm pretty sure I'd remember if I'd seen one," he retorted, looking at her unconvinced. "Also, pretty sure humans with taste for actual flesh are called _cannibals_."

Chester gave him another odd look, a mix of amusement and bemusement tingeing her features.

"They, man-eaters, are just incredibly dominant women who have many different interchangeable sexual partners, all of whom they use as they please. Like toys. They don't _actually_ eat men," she clarified. "You know that, right?"

He paused to give her an unamused stare before rolling his eyes indignantly. "Of course I knew that."

"Right. Sure you did."

He glared at her as she scoffed out a soft laugh.

"So that Caroline is one of those? A '_man-eater_'?" he spoke the word with no lack of distaste.

Chester laughed loudly, taking a sip of her Scotch before speaking, "No. No, I don't think Caroline is going to eat your brother," she teasedgnora. "In _any _way," she added pointedly when he gave her a suggestive leer. "But I do remember Caroline to be pretty vicious. Your brother's in for it if he wants to chase that one about."

"She looked pretty harmless to me."

"That's the point."

"The point of?" he prompted.

"That's the point of it. She _looked_ pretty harmless, not because she is. _Even if_ you're brother's a psycho axe-murderer, he's still going to get caught by her."

"Caught? I reckoned my brother was the one doing the chasing, not the other way around."

Chester grinned. "That's why you're just as foolish as him."

"Thank you for that," he said with a roll of his eyes.

"At least you aren't as daft as him."

He laughed. "Yes, at least I've got _that_ going for me."

"At least you've got that, yes," she drawled, finding herself flirting as she gave him a suggestive once-over. _He really is really fit_. _Incredibly so._ "But that's pretty much all you've got going for you," Chester added snarkily, shaking herself out of her entranced state.

"I beg to differ, darling," he purred, leaning in. "I saw that."

"Saw what?" she asked innocently.

"You're still as blatant as before," he breathed.

His face was within an inch from hers, and she could almost taste the sharp scent of his cologne.

Chester paused for a moment, transfixed by how good the man smelt and how dark his eyes were.

Coughing loudly, she broke herself away and proceeded to down her Scotch in effort to calm her nerves.

Giving him a sideways look, she said, "You better quit while you're ahead. I'd be too much trouble for a bloke like you."

"I like trouble." He smirked cheekily.

"I'm sure you do," Chester drawled sardonically, smile tugging at her lips once more. "But some things are better left untouched."

He hummed thoughtfully, smirking more prominently as he voiced his disagreement by giving her a slow, appreciative once-over.

"So, about my brother, what makes him so foolish?"

Pleased at the change in topic, Chester scoffed, "The fact that he was so willing to give chase—like a puppy with a ball—is what makes him so foolish. That was exactly what Caroline wanted, and he played right into her hands."

"But it shall be her who pays when she gets caught, won't it? After all, she is playing with fire here. She _will_ get burned." He smirked with an eager look of anticipation.

Chester paused. "One, that was super creepy how incredibly bloodthirsty you sounded right there." He chuckled darkly. She gave him an odd glance. "Two, Caroline might get singed a bit, but in the end, _she'll _be the one tugging around the leash. Not him."

"He might strangle her with that proverbial leash then."

"Once again, you're _super_ creepy," she said, giving him a disturbed glance, "and she won't give him a chance to do so. Did you see the way he freaking chased tail out of here?"

He laughed loudly at her words, speaking through his chuckles, "I'm quite enjoying the way you keep comparing my brother to a dog."

Chester rolled her eyes. "Aren't all men?" she joked with a quick smirk.

"You seem to speak from experience," he retorted with a slight leer, a teasing grin tugging at his lips. "_Lots_ of it."

"Hardy-har-har," she said flatly, though she was unable to quell her lingering smile. "Watch out folks, we've got quite the comedian here."

"I aim to please." He wagged his eyebrows for effect.

Chester scoffed, "_Please_. Don't make me vomit on you."

"More like _swoon_ on me."

"Not even in your wildest dreams, pretty boy."

"Now, darling, what would you know of my wildest dreams?" he purred.

"Nothing," she responded with a snort. "I don't know a thing, and for that I'm glad, 'cause I doubt I'd have enough bleach to handle it."

"There's plenty of other things you could _handle_ instead." Chester scoffed dismissively at his innuendo, but that didn't deter him as he placed a hand upon her knee, slowly trailing up her leg with his slender fingers. "Under my guidance, we could make them into reality, those wild dreams of mine," he whispered into her ear. "They'd be so much more hands on, you see—so much easier to _handle_, yes?"

Chester bit at her lip, slightly tempted to just ditch the idea of waiting around for her no-show mother and give into the idea of having a quick one-night stand with a really hot guy whose name she didn't even know.

_Like mother, like daughter_, she found herself thinking derisively as she inched closer to the dark-haired man.

He seemed quite pleased with himself as he shifted even closer, harshly gripping her thigh with firm fingers.

She leaned in further, intent on closing the space that lingered tensely between them. His breath felt cool and minty along the seam of her lips.

His lips barely brushed hers as her phone buzzed loudly, making an irritating noise against the wood of the bar top as it vibrated.

…

Jerking away in surprise, Chester quickly palmed her phone, answering with a heavy sigh.

The dark-haired man seemed to share her sentiments as he frowned angrily at the electronic device.

"Hello?"

"_Hey_, _hey_, _hey_, _honey_," a drawling voice slurred the speaker. "_It's me, your mother_."

"I've gathered, mum. There's this thing called 'caller ID' that conveniently exists in our world."

"_Hey, no need to sass me, young lady. I am your mother._"

"Fine," Chester huffed. "So, where are you?"

A hysterical giggle sounded from the phone. "_Yeah…_ _About that…_"

"Mother!"

"_Chill out, baby. I just need to think a bit, yeah?_" There was a pause; drunken stumbling could be heard on the other end. Along with more giggling and a rougher, _manlier_ chuckle."_Where are _you_, sweet cheeks? Out partying it up like the proper young lassie you are?_" She laughed uproariously as if she told the funniest joke before continuing to speak,"_I've certainly been rather busy—if you know what I mean._"

"Mum, you're drunk. I've been waiting at the bar for at least two hours now. Where the bloody hell are you?"

"_Language, missy,_" the voiced tsk-ed. "_Wait, which bar?_"

"The Grill, Mystic Falls, remember?"

"_Yeah…_" she trailed off."_Nope. Don't remember jack. Did I really tell you to meet me there?_"

Chester clenched her jaw. "Yes."

"_Well, clearly I'm not there. Am I now, my dear? Are you sure I asked to meet up with you? Today?_"

Chester was breathing deeply through her nose. "You said it was an 'emergency'. To 'come quickly', because this time you weren't being the typical you and spouting out bloody nonsense as usual," she snapped. "Clearly, you're still being _you_."

_"Aw,_" the voice could be heard feigning a pout on the other end. "_Don't be mad, baby. You should be glad that nothing bad has happened, yeah? You can drive on home now that everything's good with me. Not like you have much to do anyway_," her mother said light-heartedly."_You should go out more, missy._"

Chester could feel the heat rising to her face, and she didn't know what exactly made her explode but she reckoned it was either her mother's unwarranted tone of condescension or the throaty male chuckles that echoed through from behind them.

"Fuck you, mum," she hissed viciously. "Oh, wait. Clearly that's already being done by whatever loose-ass bloke you're currently with."

"_Excuse me?_"

"Goodbye, mother. Have a nice fucking life. Don't call me again, and don't ever expect me to worry about you anymore. Bye."

Chester hung up as her mother struggled to reply, slamming her iPhone onto the bar for good measure.

…

Remembering that she was still currently sitting next to someone, she turned awkwardly towards him with an uncertain expression across her face.

He stared blankly back.

"So," she ventured. "This is awkward."

He scoffed, "Spell out the obvious, why don't you?"

"Be incredibly snarky, why don't you?" Chester bit back. She sighed. "Sorry, sorry. It's just… Family stuff, y'know?"

He smirked humourlessly. "Believe me, I _definitely_ know."

Both of them fell into silence, neither in the mood to continue their banter as different topics weighed heavily upon their minds.

Chester cleared her throat. "Well, I guess I'll go now, yeah?" She gathered her phone into her pocket and shrugged on her red pea coat. "Nice talking to you, pretty boy."

He stopped her with a firm grasp on her arm. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but stopped himself, only giving her a dark leer in response.

Chester frowned as the grip on her arm tightened. "Right. You can let go now." She tried to tug herself free but with no avail. "Hey…" she protested.

She felt her breath quicken as the dark-haired man gave her an inscrutable look, making her feel rather light-headed at how entirely foreboding it seemed.

He smirked. "Let me walk you out."

"Uh," she stammered. "No, that's okay. Really. I'll be f—"

He dragged her out of the Mystic Grill before she could finish her sentence.

…

The cold air hit her face like a rude awakening. They were in the back alley, Chester noted, using her free hand to pull her jacket closer as a draft caught her throat.

She shivered, but not because of the cold.

"Now, although we've talked for quite some time, I believe we've yet to be introduced," he said pleasantly. "Quite rude of me, really."

Chester looked up uncertainly, opening her mouth to speak.

"No, wait," he demanded, almost childishly. "Don't tell me _your_ name. I like the mystery. This way, you'll be all mine to solve." He chuckled, the light sound tinged with a sinister edge.

_Yeah, no thanks, pretty boy. _Chester spun on her heel, jerking herself away through the use of her own momentum. She barely made it a step before she was slammed into the hard brick of the building's wall.

Chester's eyes widened as her breath got knocked straight out of her; they widened even further at the proximity he was suddenly forcing. He had her pressed flush up against the wall with his own larger body, looming over her before she blinked twice.

_I swear I didn't even see the guy move_, she thought in alarm.

Chester felt an involuntary shiver rack down her spine as she caught his menacing gaze. Gone was the pleasant, if not incredibly cheeky, boy she'd bantered with, and in his place was something else.

Something _more_.

Feral. Sadistic. _Real_.

Chester breathed a shuddering breath, the white wisps fading into the dark night.

"I'm Kol Mikaelson. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

His eyes turned blacked as he lunged forward.

**—**


	2. two

**—**

**. monsters and men .**

...

ii. _breaking down_

**—**

She smelt the rich tang of blood before feeling the agonizing crunch of the bite upon her throat.

Desperate not to actually swoon like every other clichéd damsel in distress, Chester struggled against the iron grip upon her, thrashing as the smell of blood grew stronger.

She successfully managed to free a hand, raking her blunt nails across her assailants face.

He hissed against her throat, the sound muffled by a smear of gore.

She swung again, clenching her fist tightly this time to allow herself a slug to his face.

He lifted his face from her pale neck, knocking the oxygen from her lungs as she took in the sight he presented.

Though he was still undoubtedly beautiful with impeccably clean-cut features, the stain of gore streaked smudges of crimson across the pale palette of his skin. In the dark of the night, he looked to be bloodthirsty demon as blood blurred a feral painting over his jaw line and mouth.

Chester was too stunned to breath. _What, __what__ just happened?_ Her eyes grew bleary as her mouth hung agape, unable to process the air she needed.

"You don't taste as good as thought you would, darling." He seemed to pout. The image of his childish expression mixed in with the mess upon his face was completely jarring. "A pity, really. After all, I've always favoured pretty little things like you, so I thought you'd taste more…" he trailed off, licking away a drop of blood from his lips, "_sweet_."

_Well, excuse me, _Chester could help but think in her daze, affronted that the raging psychopath would just comment so casually about just ripping into her throat with his teeth.

"Oh, you look offended, love. Don't be," he feigned comfort, brushing Chester's long hair out of the open wound on her neck. "Food is food, and I'm not one to waste." He leaned forward and she felt the wet trail of his tongue lap at her throat, at the _blood_.

Chester felt oxygen rush into her lungs as he bit into her once more. She screamed for all she was worth.

Unfortunately, before the shrill sound could break into the air, the iron clasp of his hand grabbed onto her entire jaw, covering her mouth as it harshly slammed her head against the brick wall.

She thrashed against his hold, screaming into his hand as he licked and nibbled.

He drew back once more, giving her the gentlest look she'd seen on his face so far. He shushed her with soft soothing gestures, brown eyes clear and comforting as her muffled screams rang no further than his palm.

"Shh," he murmured, petting her head like a small animal. "It'll all be okay. You're going to be okay. I'm not going to hurt you."

Chester didn't believe him, but she did have to stop herself from leaning into his light touch. The gentleness greatly contrasted with the violent manner he'd used to press her up against the wall.

He grinned, wide and sharp. "Just kidding."

He lunged before Chester could blink, ripping into her throat once more without a single care. As the pain struck her, Chester immediately responded by biting back.

Her blunt teeth tore flesh with a surprising ease, hitting bone with viciousness. She clenched her jaw tighter as he drew more deep gulps of blood from her neck. The taste of something sweet pooled into her mouth, making her choke as the liquid rushed into her mouth.

This all happened within a split second, and within another she was being held in tightening choke against the wall.

He used one hand to pin her, leaving her feet dangling, while he examined his other. Though there was the stain of blood, there was no wound.

Chester baulked.

"Why, love, that wasn't very nice. You even drew blood." He tightened his hand, choking more oxygen from the grasp of her lungs. Chester clawed at him but her nails seemed to have no effect, not even as they dug deep into flesh. "I didn't suspect you to be a biter, darling. You should have told me sooner," he flirted, smirking suggestively. She wheezed, trying to spit out the sweet taste that lingered in her mouth. Pursing his lips, he inspected her hand closer. "Let's just hope you aren't one to swallow." He paused for a moment, chuckling at his own dirty innuendo, before giving her the sweetest smile.

Chester made a disgusted grunt through her wheezing lungs.

All at once, Chester felt the cold, hard press of lips upon her own just as the grip to her neck increased its force by ten-fold.

She swore she heard a sharp break and taunting chuckle as her world drew into darkness.

…

When Chester awoke, you could say she wasn't pleased.

Not only did she awake with an irritatingly painful crick in her neck, but the dreadful feeling was also accompanied by an inflamed sunburn. Literally.

As in, the sun was _literally_ burning the flesh from her body.

Of course, Chester had to take a moment to absorb this fact, leaving her even less pleased as she realized she was lying within a dumpster full of dirty trash bags and rotten food.

Chester screamed.

She was undecided on whether she was more enraged than horrified or the other way around. Either way, she was full on panicking.

The stench of scorching flesh and burning trashbags weren't much help.

After exactly twenty-two seconds of continuous screeching, Chester realized that the shrill noise wasn't doing anything to prevent her flesh from flaking off. Survival instincts kicking in, she found herself leaping out of the dump and into the sliver of shade behind it within a blink.

Chester was surprised at how quick she'd moved. She wasn't inhumanely fast, like the dark-haired man from last night, but she certainly moved quicker than she thought possible.

Shaking her head, she examined the surrounding area. The sun was still on a ready rise, the light edging and slicing slowly at the shadow she was hiding within.

Remembering where she was, Chester spotted the stairs leading down to the Grill's back entrance. Taking a deep breath, Chester pulled her coat closer as she sprinted for them.

The burn this time wasn't as bad, but it still stung horribly.

_Remember to tell myself to invest in some quality sunblock_, she noted sardonically, hissing at the pain. _I mean, after I find out what the bloody hell is happening to me, that is._

Leaping a few feet from the stairs to avoid the chase of sunlight, Chester surprised herself once again when she was able to successfully leap the full set of stairs. She barely felt the impact as she landed under the shadowy eave of the back door.

Getting up and straightening her skewed clothing, Chester licked at her dry lips. She felt hungry.

_I'll grab a bite later_, she silently reprimanded. _I have to figure out what's wrong first._

Chester tried to open the back door to the Grill. It was locked.

_Figures_. _Just my luck, really._

"Hey!" she called, pounding on the door. "Is there anyone in there? Hello?"

She pounded a few more times, harder, before the door opened.

It was a boy, younger than her by a few years, with short blond hair and really nice biceps. He was quite tall, too. And he smelt good, _really_ good.

_Almost mouth-watering_, she thought, subconsciously licking at the insides of her mouth.

"Hello…" he ventured uncertainly.

She smiled. "Yeah, hi. Uh, could you possibly let me in?"

"Um," he paused, giving her a suspicious look. "The Grill's not open yet."

"Please," she implored. "You've got to help me. There's something wrong. Something very, _very_ wrong."

He gave her a sideways glance, still suspicious. "'Something wrong'? What are you talking about?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "I don't remember what happened last night—which is probably something you've heard a thousand times before—but I woke up in the dumpster by the Grill and started to well—" she stopped uncertainly. _He'll think I'm mad. Blooming bonkers._

"Go on…" he said softly.

"I started to burn in the sun," Chester spat quickly. "Literally."

All of a sudden, the boy reeled back, moving to slam the door in her face. Chester moved forward with her oddly enhanced speed and caught it before it closed.

Flinging it back, the door knocked against a wall but the boy had already run off.

"Hey!" she protested. "What's your problem?" she called as Chester followed his scent.

_Wait_, _his _'_scent'_, she paused to think. _What the f—_

Her thought was interrupted as a sharp pain erupted from beneath her collarbone, making her yelp as the wound sizzled.

The boy reappeared from behind a food rack, wielding a gun. A gun that was aimed at her.

"D-did," she stammered, "did you just _shoot _me?"

"Yes."

"Well, yes, _obviously_ you did," Chester hissed sarcastically as she clutched at her bleeding wound. "It was a rhetorical question. The question that you should probably answer is, 'Why?'"

He ignored her questions to demand his own, "Who are you, and the hell do you want?"

"You_ shot _me, and then just decided you could just demand crap from me afterwards?" Chester asked incredulously. "I don't think so, blondie." She leapt forward.

Grasping the gun, she managed to dodge one of the bullets before harshly wrenching the weapon from the boy's grip. Chester wasn't as astonished this time as the gun flew through the air and clattered somewhere behind her.

The boy, however, was unrelenting despite his lack of defense. Grabbing a nearby crate, he smashed it open, grabbing a long splintered piece and swiftly stabbing Chester in the leg.

She hissed as she went down, biting her tongue until blood rushed into her mouth.

"What did you do _that_ for?"

"You attacked me," he stated simply.

She scoffed, shaking her head, "_I _attacked _you_? Are you shitting me right now? I seem to recall _you shooting me_ before I'd even done anything." The anger was already dissipating as the impact of pain brought tears to her eyes. "I hadn't even done anything…" she whimpered quietly, pulling her injured leg closer.

"You're a vampire," he told her. "You were going to do something if I didn't stop you."

_What?_

"What?"

Perhaps her confusion was so blankly written across her face that boy took pity upon her. Looking down, his harsh expression softened into one that was more grim than angered.

"You mean…" he paused, pursing his lips. "You mean you don't know."

"Don't know _what_?" she hissed, baring her teeth. He quickly recoiled. "Sorry," she apologized. "I didn't mean to be so abrasive. It's just… I told you, I can't remember anything clearly. From last night, I mean. Then, out of nowhere you start spouting nonsense about me being, like, a vampire. A _bloody_, blasted vampire—no pun intended. I just, I just don't know how to take this. I don't even think I really believe you."

The boy didn't say anything for a while, giving her a suspicious look of scrutiny.

"Well," he sighed, "I guess we should start somewhere where you remember. Like, for example, what's your name?"

"Uh, Chester," she said with a friendly tone, hoping to mellow the boy. "Who are you?"

He bit his lip, clearly deciding whether he should give her his name. He definitely didn't trust her.

"I'm Matt. Matt Donovan."

Chester's eyes widened, realization suddenly dawning upon her.

"Wait. Matt Donovan," she rolled his name against her tongue. "Mattie?"

Matt stiffened, backing away to grab another piece of wood.

"No, wait, Mattie. It's _me_," she implored. "Cassandra Chesterfield. Remember?" she prompted. He gave her a frown. "I used to live by Caroline Forbes?" The suspicious, guarded look was back on his face, uncertainty furrowing his brow. "I was the one that used to tease you about secretly enjoying playing dress-up with Caroline. You were so short and scrawny that I'd tell you that you fit right in with the rest of her toys." He scrunched his brow even more as he attempted to remember, slowly shaking his head when nothing came to him.

Hoping to invoke something, she continued, "I think I even babysat you once or twice. I made you the most disgusting sandwich with gummy-bears, strawberry jelly, chips, ketchup, and peanut butter—at the time, I'd thought I was some sort of gourmet chef for making the thing." Chester let out a dismissive laugh. "I remember thinking you were the sweetest kid ever when you ate up the entire monstrosity, all 'cause you didn't want to hurt my feelings. You looked ill for _days_ and I'd felt so horrible, but you just smiled and said, 'Everything's okay.' Like you were some big, strong tough guy…" she trailed off reminiscently, the nostalgia burning at her sinuses, making her sniffle.

_Why do I suddenly feel so incredibly sad?_ she wondered in dismay, the rush of emotions almost overcoming began rapidly trembling, bleared eyes darting back and forth as the intensity of her sentiments washed over her.

Matt quickly dropped the wooden splinter he'd been clutching. It clattered uselessly beside him.

Suddenly, Chester felt warm arms engulf her shaking body. A rush of tears flowed from her eyes.

She let herself weep into Matt's shoulder, mindful not to smear snot over his shirt.

"Everything's okay," he comforted. "I, I remember you. I think. You just look very different," he said soothingly. "I mean, not _bad_ different 'cause you are really pretty. I mean, I'm not hitting on you… Just, uh," he stammered off. "…Everything's gonna be okay."

Chester smiled softly, letting out a teary laugh, burrowing her wet face into his neck.

He smelt good. Like freshly cut grass, clean laundry, and… _food_.

She gasped, shoving him away with all her strength. He tumbled backwards onto the ground with a gasp of shock.

She felt the odd feeling of something crawling up under her eyes and the pull of a push against her gums.

"What is wrong with me, Mattie?" she demanded in a panic.

"What? What happened?" he asked frantically.

"I," she murmured, "I think I wanted to eat you. No, not eat… Bite. I wanted to bite you." She shook her head in horror. "I wanted to drink your blood, Mattie. I could smell it; you smell good. I felt both hungry and disgusted at the same time, and I still feel so, _so_ hungry…" she trailed, the hunger gnawing at her teeth. "_What_ the _fuck_ is wrong with me?" Chester snarled.

Matt seemed flustered, reeling back once more. "Calm down, Chester. It's gonna be okay. Just calm—"

"—_Don't_ tell me to 'calm down'! It's not okay, because if it were going to be 'okay'," she snapped, motioning quotation marks, "then I fucking _wouldn't_ want to eat you! But, I do. I really want to just rip into your throat and fucking _feed_."

Matt stumbled back as Chester leaned forward, teeth bared in a feral growl.

"Fuck, Matt!" she yelled. "Don't just stand there and wait for me to kill you! Do something!"

"What the hell do you want me to do?" he snapped back loudly.

"I don't_ know_, genius! Maybe do something to _stop_ me from eating you?"

Matt did just that. Right as Chester finished screeching her words, a sharp splinter of wood stabbed right into her other leg, effectively immobilizing her for a moment. It also seemed to shut her up.

Chester let out a shuddering breath. "Ouch," she sneered.

"Well, you told me to do _something_," he stated. "So I did."

She rolled her eyes. "How proactive of you," she drawled.

"When was the last time you fed?" he prompted.

Chester furrowed her brows. "Um… Yesterday?" She pursed her lips. "Wait, you mean fed on… _blood_, don't you?" He nodded. Chester grimaced. "Then, uh, never." She wrinkled her nose. "Because, you know, that's kind of gross. Not to mention messed up," she muttered beneath her breath.

"What?" he exclaimed.

"I've never drank blood," she stated slowly, "_because I'm not a vampire_. I don't eat people." She snorted as a stray thought came upon her from her words; _Fish are friends, not food. Or rather—people are friends, not food._

"You're not a vampire?" he scoffed. "Right. So, you _didn't_ just try to eat me?"

Chester blinked. "Well, if you put it _that_ way…" She sighed. "I mean, Mattie, I've never craved blood like I do right now. But it's not just hunger I feel, I also feel sick and weakened. Like if I've just been starved for months and months on end. Like I'm dying. I'm just so _hungry_." She bit at her bottom lip frantically.

He blinked in realization. "You're in transition."

"…In 'transition'?"

"Yeah, into a vampire," he clarified.

"Wait, I'm _not_ a vampire right now?" she questioned, somewhat confused.

"Not yet, you're not."

"So, Mattie," Chester paused, almost too hopeful to continue, "does that mean it's possible for me to stop this so-called 'transition'? To stay human?"

Matt frowned sadly. That was all Chester needed.

Chester sighed dejectedly. "Yeah. I didn't think so. Shit happens, and it usually doesn't get better." He chuckled half-heartedly at her quip. She smiled back at him with equal fervour. "So, what do you know about this 'transition' process I'm supposedly going through."

"You _are_ going through it," he stated, broking no arguments with his tone. "All I know is that it's the stage before you become an actual vampire. My friend Jeremy told me that to complete the transition you've gotta drink human blood, then after that you're cool. Except there's like a time limit to it, which I'm not exactly sure on."

Chester pondered on his words, slowly processing them.

"So, then, what happens if I don't?" she prompted. "Drink human blood and complete the transition, that is."

"You die."

"Oh," she muttered. "Brilliant."

Chester's face completely fell at the notion of death. _But I guess I can't avoid it_, she thought, chewing at her bottom lip. _I don't exactly own a blood bank and I'm not exactly up for eating Mattie to save myself. _She picked at the sizzling wound beneath her collarbone. _Going out and eating someone else could be an option, but I don't know what the time limit to this transition thingie is._

"I, you, um, uh…" Matt blew out a breath. "You don't want to die, right?"

Chester peered up. "No, of course not, but I'm not exactly able to do much about it." She shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. "Plus, neither of us know when my time's going to be up and I seriously doubt I'll find a willing Twilight fan before then. I mean, I can't even step outside without frying like chips."

There was another tense silence between.

"Okay," Matt finally said. "_Okay_."

Chester raised her brows in confusion. "…Okay?"

"I'm going to do this. I'm going to help you."

"What? Wait, no," she protested, realizing what he was trying to say. "Mattie, I'm going to kill you if you let me feed. I can feel it. Simply from your scent, I find myself wanting to rip out your jugular. You definitely can't come near me."

"No, Chester, I'm going to help you," he stated. "I think I have an idea. Just sit tight, okay?"

Chester eyed him dubiously. "Alright…"

He nodded, smiling with encouragement. Getting up from the floor, he went through the door leading to the bar. Chester could hear the soft clattering of glass as Matt began searching for something.

Chester blew out a tired breath; the surrealism of her situation was getting to her.

…

He came back with a glass tumbler and a small vial of clear liquid.

Filling a small fraction of the vial into the tumbler, Matt handed Chester the glass with care.

"Drink that."

Chester eyed it. "What is it?"

"Vervain." She gave him a quizzical look, hoping for him to further clarify. "It's deadly to vampires and prevents compulsion," he explained. "And, it burns like hell. I shot you bullets tipped with it," he said, motioning to the circular wound beneath her collarbone.

It hissed ominously.

"And," she paused, listening to the sharp hisses coming from the puncture, "I'm going to _drink_ it," she stated uncertainly.

He nodded. "Don't worry," he comforted at the sight of her doubtful expression. "It's only to weaken you a bit so you don't drain me. I'm only giving you a small dose; it won't kill you or anything. Well, at least I don't think so," he muttered beneath his breath.

"How reassuring," she quipped.

Chester swirled the liquid around a few times in its glass before working up the nerve to knock it back.

Immediately, the affects of it struck her like a loaded freight train to the face. It felt as if she was being slow-cooked from inside out. Matt caught the tumbler before it clattered to the floor.

Clenching her jaw, Chester couldn't help the howl of strangled pain as the concoction seemed to burn through her tongue and throat. She screamed when she felt it rake into her insides, igniting a torturous conflagration within her.

Seeing Matt's horror-stricken expression (from watching her scream her lungs out, she gathered), Chester quickly bit her tongue. The flavour of her own blood was slightly more tasteful than what she expected, but it was still quite disgusting as the salty fluid filled her mouth. At least it stopped her screams though.

She slid to the floor on her side, coughs violently wracking her body.

"I'm sorry," Matt murmured. "I didn't know it'd affect transitioning vampires that much."

"It's okay, Mattie," she reassured, her speech slurring. "Doesn't hurt so bad. Really."

Matt gave Chester a look of clear disbelief. Shaking his head, he said with conviction, "Don't worry."

At that, Matt pull out a long gleaming knife from behind him, the stainless steel pulling swiftly across his palm before she could blink. He caught the crimson drops with the tumbler.

Chester felt herself change, the shift of scent in the air twisted at her features. The crawl of veins beneath her eyes sharpened her vision to the blood dripping from Matt's hand.

She felt herself try to lunge forward in a feral hunger, the aching of her canines doubled every second she wasted clawing for the blood. The vervain still had its burning effect upon her; it left her yearning for salvation yet immobilized her body from reaching it.

She hissed and scratched her own throat when her body would not move. The crimson liquid pooling into the glass smelt divine.

Matt closed his fist tightly above the tumbler, filling it to the brim. When he finished, he cautiously slid it over to Chester.

Finding that her hunger gave her a renewed sense of perseverance, she reached for the glass with a quick, though trembling, hand. Grabbing it, she wasted no time in knocking it back.

The first sip was tinged with vervain but the gulps that followed were like the oasis in the desert—_heavenly_.

In her sidewards position upon the ground, drops of blood easily pooled from the edges of mouth.

Chester finished the glass within seconds, slamming it down. It cracked a bit. "_More_," she hissed in demand, sitting upright. "I want more."

Matt gulped. "P-pass me the glass first."

She snarled, baring her teeth, and roughly slid him the glass.

Matt breathed deeply, bracing himself as he positioned the knife to his hand once more. He hissed as it slid deeper into the previous cut.

He filled the tumbler again, the blood flowing faster this time.

Sliding her the glass, Matt quickly rushed back into the bar.

_To get a washcloth to stop his bleeding_, Chester assumed absentmindedly, disregarding him in favour of greedily chugging down his blood.

She savoured the taste of blood more this time, the sickening feeling in her gut lessening at each large gulp.

Matt tasted of sweet honey and tangy oranges, a fresh blend that Chester found herself quite enjoying.

Her hunger reduced itself as she rolled the thick liquid against her tongue.

…

Matt returned fifteen minutes later with a clean knife and a freshly bandaged hand.

Chester could feel herself grow hungry once more as she caught a vague whiff of the blood beneath his tightly bound hand.

She gulped, letting out a shuddering breath as she tried to temper her instinctual urges.

"You alright?" he asked kindly, though Chester didn't miss how he stood at least a meter away from her with a tightening hold on the knife.

"No," she muttered softly, "but I'll be okay. I _won't_ try to eat you though, if that's what you meant." Chester attempted a reassuring smile.

Matt tentatively smiled back. He crouched down beside her.

"This is gonna hurt," he commented.

"Wha—?"

Chester was interrupted by Matt grabbing onto both of the splinters skewered in her legs. He yanked them out remorselessly in one smooth motion. She let out a strangled, surprised yelp.

"Oi!" she barked.

He gave her a look. "You'll heal. You're a vampire now."

Chester glanced down apprehensively. Her torn leggings showed that Matt was right; the wounds slowly healed themselves before her eyes, leaving no mark other than the drying blood.

She gaped. "Wow."

"Yeah," he agreed noncommittally. Motioning to her, he said, "Pull your jacket off and take off your shirt."

"_Excuse me_?" Chester demanded incredulously, gaping at Matt.

"Yeah. I need to—" he stopped, noting her expression. Chester was surprised how quickly a person could blush. "I, I didn't, you know, uh," he stammered out. She raised a teasing brow and smirked at him, amused by how flustered he suddenly got. "I mean, I just meant that…" he trailed off, brandishing the stainless steel knife he held like it explained everything.

"What, are you going to gut me with that or something?" Chester joked with a straight face.

"What? No!" Matt exclaimed. He blushed even deeper at his outburst. "Right. That was a joke, wasn't it?" He shook his head, rolling his eyes. "I need to cut out that bullet in you."

Chester raised a brow. "You mean, the bullet that _you _shot me with?" she teased.

He scoffed a soft laugh. "Yeah, that one."

Nodding, she peeled herself out of her pea coat, throwing it to the side. Chester felt her limbs groan in protest as she stood up, using the wall as a crutch. As soon as she was fully upright, she shamelessly yanked her sleeveless blouse over her head.

_Those are some massive stains_, she thought with a frown, looking down at the soiled pile of clothes. _That blouse was silk too_. She frowned in dismay. _Forget the bloodstains, I hope just there isn't a bullet hole through it._

Turning to Matt—who was helplessly fixated upon her chest with a face that rivalled the colour of a tomato—Chester prompted, "Well?"

"Y-yeah," he spluttered, quickly looking away. He fumbled with the knife for a moment before using it to motion for her to follow him. "Let's go to the bar to do this; there's more light there," he mumbled.

Chester grinned as Matt refused to even look in her direction. _How cute_.

"Sure," she agreed.

She made sure to brush teasingly against him with her bare torso as she moved past him, pushing through the door with a cheeky grin.

**—**


End file.
